


Return of the Grievous Angel

by havisham



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age of Sail, Alley Sex, Anal Sex, Georgian Fossil Hunting Expeditions, Historical, Lost Love, M/M, Medical Procedures, Reunions, Secret Relationship, Shotgun Wedding, Surgeons, Treat, Weird Historical Trivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Between the devil and the deep blue sea...Ulysses Barton has never wished to leave home. However, his talents and his fate leads him to travel to the far corners of the world, where he finds true love and devastating loss.But even as Ulysses deeply grieves, he finds that sometimes the sea gives back what it’s taken — for a price.*A reluctant naval surgeon finds love and loss on the high seas.
Relationships: Returning Sailor Thought Lost at Sea/His Mourning Husband
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Return of the Grievous Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MildredMost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/gifts).



> This just took me over and I couldn't stop until I put it on the screen. Thank you for such a lovely prompt! 
> 
> (Thanks to my wonderful beta, El!)

Ulysses Barton recognized the fine irony of his name earlier and more deeply than anyone else ever could. Though his fond parents had named him for the famed traveler, Ulysses disliked travel more than anything. He dreaded going more than five miles from his home. Such was his fate, however, that he went much farther than that. 

As a youngster, he went off to be trained as a surgeon, and though he failed to become fully certified, he gained enough credentials to be hired as a surgeon’s assistant on board the male convict ship H.M.S. _Eucleia_ , heading towards New South Wales.

The ship’s surgeon was a pleasant but vague man named Hounslow. He was coming up on his nineteenth year in the service, and was liable to give his assistants free rein over the ship. When he learned that Ulysses possessed a good and readable script, he surrendered the keeping of the medical logs over to him. 

“Won’t the board wonder why the handwriting’s changed half-way through the voyage, sir?” Ulysses questioned, clutching the logs as if for dear life. Hounslow blinked his large, grey eyes at him. 

“Nosological records are of the utmost importance, young man,” he said in a ponderous tone of voice. “One must maintain them. However, my sight is failing and I have not had a chance to write in them. You must do it for me.” 

And when Ulysses opened the book, he saw that Hounslow was right. After the first page -- upon which the name of the ship and surgeon, as well as the date and purpose of the voyage, was written -- nothing else had been recorded. 

Utterly unbidden, Ulysses sighed. Dr. Hounslow patted his arm. “Kirby will show you what to do.” Kirby was the loblolly boy, a hard-eyed fourteen year old who was competent in the ways of the ship. Ulysses did his best not to be a burden to him. 

The _Eucleia_ ’s journey was marked by ill-health and misfortune from the start. Ulysses’ hands were kept busy, as there were many strange things to record. The most notable was when a bolt of lightning struck the ship. 

The storm had come upon them quickly, only taking a few minutes to blow in. Ulysses had never seen anything like it -- the sea and the sky seemed to merge into a furious column, and the ship that he had once seen as so sturdy was now a leaf bobbing along in the water. It was terrifying and numbing, but he could not merely stand on the deck, awed by nature’s savage majesty. 

Lightning streaked through the sky, giving a weird glare to the churning sky and seas. Thunder cracked right over their heads and the lightning struck the mast. Three sharp cracks followed, and then a terrible silence. 

There was a sickening smell of burning flesh, and Ulysses counted at least three huddled shapes on the deck, of men who didn’t stir or get out of the way as the mast swayed dangerously this way and that. 

The storm began to move away from the ship and the cry went up. There was still someone — living — in the crow’s nest. He waved down at them all. That was Eben Reed, and he was completely untouched.

After the storm had completely passed them, the bodies of Reed’s fellows were left on the deck until evening on the command of Captain Montgomery, so as to allay any superstitions the crew may have harbored, and then consigned to the deep. 

Ulysses was tasked with the job of examining Reed, as Dr. Hounslow was indisposed in his cabin. Reed was a handsome man of seven and twenty, four years older than Ulysses himself. Reed was an able seaman and seemed as good a candidate as any to be spared by the merciful hand of God. 

He told Ulysses that he had felt the lightning go through him, and the feeling had been unlike anything he had ever felt before. Ulysses nodded, marking down his thoughts in the medical journal.

“Did you think that you would die, Reed?” Ulysses asked. Reed had taken off his shirt and allowed Ulysses to examine him. It was not an unpleasant duty, as he was well-muscled and brown-skinned. When he eyed Ulysses, there was amusement in his hazel eyes. 

“I didn’t have a chance to think at all, sir,” he said, and though his tone was perfectly polite, Ulysses thought he was being made a fool of. He tutted lightly and told Reed he could put his shirt back on. He had obviously not been deeply affected by his ordeal. 

Still, it would be well to keep an eye on him. And though there were fifty people onboard the ship, Ulysses saw Eben Reed often enough to distinguish him from the rest of the crew. He was a good worker, not prone to drunkenness or debauchery. However, he did always seem to have piquant remarks at the ready, which could not endear him to most. 

*

“Where were you born, Reed? Who are your people?” Ulysses asked him once. They were standing close together as the chaplain read out the Sunday sermon. There was talk of Reed being picked as the master’s mate, in which case there would be no trouble in them standing together. 

Reed leaned away and stretched his back. He was naturally several inches taller than Ulysses. “I’m a simple farmer’s son, sir. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Ulysses narrowed his eyes. He thought there was more to it than that, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He cleared his throat and said, “But you left? Was it for a specific reason?”

Reed flashed him a smile. “Oh, you think an angry father chased me off? Not at all, sir. I took the king’s shilling willingly enough. I had older brothers to consider. The farm would never be mine.”

“Yes, it’s a pity, that,” Ulysses said, eyeing the handsome lines of Eben Reed’s face. “Primogeniture is an inexorable system indeed.” 

“If you say so, sir. What about you, sir? Why did you become a doctor?” 

“I’m not yet,” Ulysses said instantly. “I’m not even fully certified to be a surgeon. It’s remarkable that they allowed me to come in as Dr. Hounslow’s assistant.” 

“They needed to replace his last one. Mason died in Porto of fever.” 

“You don’t say,” Ulysses said wonderingly. He had thought the former assistant must have left or died. Neither Dr. Hounslow or Kirby had said anything about it, but it certainly made sense that it was so. 

He considered it further and said, “To answer your question, Reed. About why I took up the profession — I suppose it’s because I’ve never feared the sight of blood.” 

“A useful skill to have,” Reed muttered, squinting at the sun. “Blood is inevitable in this line of work.” 

“True, and we’re not even at war just now,” Ulysses agreed. 

They shared a look of mutual accord, though what exactly they were agreeing to was unclear to Ulysses himself. Nonetheless, from then on, he regarded Reed as one of the most dependable men on the ship. He hoped the regard was mutual, but it wasn’t as if he could simply ask. Such a thing would be ridiculous. 

There were some men, Ulysses reflected, who were rather unfit for their roles in life. Reed could have been anything at all, if he hadn’t been a sailor -- if he’d been born in the right place, to the right parents. Though they had barely had any opportunities to speak, Ulysses felt that Reed was capable. Certainly capable. 

On the other hand, Ulysses thought his own position in the world was the work of Providence, but that did not fill him with strength and confidence as it had his parents. Ulysses was a believer, but his belief often filled him with fear and dread. How could anyone feel secure while skimming across the top of the sea, ready at any moment to founder and sink? 

*

The _Eucleia_ arrived at its destination intact, and the emotion of the convicts on the first sight of their new home puzzled Ulysses more than anything else. They, as a group, were not in transports over the sight of their new home. Dread seemed to be the more dominant feeling than happiness. But then it was understandable, Ulysses supposed. The world outside the ship was wild and unknown, and the likelihood of death was higher than that of finding any kind of happiness, or freedom. 

But wasn’t that true for all of them? 

When Reed asked him to come ashore with him, Ulysses accepted without question. The Rocks was the place for sailors and other ne’er do wells and as expected, the streets were filled with all types of people. Ulysses had never seen such a sea of humanity, not even in his brief time in London. He was ashamed to say it, but he stared more often than he would have liked to admit. 

Reed had been here before and seemed to know where he was going -- he conducted them to the Pelican’s Rest, a tavern patronized by some of the less boisterous sailors. 

In the dark corner they both favored, it was even possible to hear each other speak. And just as soon as they had it, they lapsed into an awkward silence, broken only when the girl came to bring them their ales. Ulysses sipped at his drink and was wondering if he ought to have just stayed on board, when Reed cleared his throat. 

“Would you want to live here forever?” he began to ask and then coughed. “I ask because of the display we saw today.” 

“You mean the convicts?” Ulysses said, straightening his spine. “I suppose most people would choose it. Some years of toil for freedom after that. A chance to build a new home.” 

“This place isn’t home,” Reed said dismissively. “At least, not our home.” 

“Do you consider the ship your home, Reed?” Ulysses eyed him curiously. “I suppose you’ve probably spent longer at sea than you did your father’s house, by now.” 

“Not especially. I think I don’t need a home as such,” Reed said. 

“Ah, a sad reality of our calling,” Ulysses said, sipping on his drink. “You know, the truth is that I rather dislike traveling.”

Reed stared at him. “And so you joined the Navy? Why?” 

“I believe I was called to this service,” Ulysses said uncomfortably. “At least, circumstances conspired in that way and it is better to attribute it to Providence than to more infernal purposes.” 

“For me, it could have been the Devil that caused me to run off to the sea, but why examine it further?” Reed said, shrugging. 

“That makes me think you committed some crime on land,” Ulysses said teasingly. Reed smiled in a way that did not contradict Ulysses’ comment. 

Suddenly, there was a crash that splintered the smoky peace of the tavern. Both Ulysses and Reed stood to see the commotion. A fight had broken out and swiftly turned bloody; a man’s arm had been slashed open and the perpetrator had fled. 

“Someone help him!” said the serving girl, her voice high and frightened. Reed pushed Ulysses forward, his hands briefly on Ulysses’ hips. 

“This man’s a surgeon,” he said helpfully, whilst Ulysses tried to twist away. 

“I don’t have my supplies,” Ulysses hissed at him. “And don’t tell people I’m a surgeon.” 

“A surgeon’s assistant is good enough,” Reed said cheerfully. They came upon the unfortunate soul whose arm was bleeding and the serving girl -- whose name was Sophie -- brought Ulysses a needle and thread to stitch him up. Reed made an excellent assistant, in that he could be depended on to hold the squirming man down, even as they splashed whisky on the wound to clean it. 

After that, dispirited and splashed with blood, Ulysses left the tavern. He did not expect Reed to follow him, for Miss Sophie had been waging what seemed to him a successful war for Reed’s heart -- or another part of him, anyway. It made all the sense in the world for Reed to accept her offer. He was a handsome man, and moreover, on dry land for the first time in months. 

If only Ulysses’ own appetites could be so easily satisfied! But alas, he had long known himself to be removed from the ordinary mix of life. He had never wished to take a wife or a lover. Even on board the ship, with its myriad of other options, he had taken none of them. And that was not only due to the awful consequences should he be caught, but because --

“Why did you go?” Reed asked him, his voice tickling the nape of Ulysses’ neck. Ulysses tried not to flinch, but he doubted his success. The street outside was unlit and it was late enough that the lights from the houses nearby were being doused. He turned to look at Reed, and in the dark, the other man’s face seemed almost bathed in blood. 

Ulysses blinked. His head ached so. 

He wished he could easily diagnose the feeling he had, and in doing so, treat it and cure it. But it had no cure, he already knew. So he smiled and said in an ironical fashion, “You were a loblolly boy to rival Kirby today, Reed. I congratulate you.” 

Reed gave him a clipped thank you. 

Ulysses went on, deliberately careless. “But I can’t take you away from your lady tonight -- I think I will go back to the ship.”

Reed took hold of his arm and Ulysses bristled at his temerity, even as a distant part of him clenched at the feel of it. Truly, how different were they from the men who had come to blows earlier? It seemed always to come down to a woman, even for those like Ulysses who had no interest in the matter. 

In a low but urgent voice, Reed said, “I don’t wish to spend time with a lady. I want to be with you, Barton.” 

Ulysses looked at him stupidly. “That’s impossible --” 

But Reed was already pulling him into the nearest alley and kissing him hard on the mouth. It was so strange to kiss Reed, to be so close to that mouth that he had often looked at in mute admiration. He wanted it. He wanted Reed and by some wild quirk of fate, it seemed as though he could have him -- for now, anyway. 

When he felt Reed’s hand press against his groin, he gasped aloud. Reed hushed him tenderly, pushing a hank of hair away from Ulysses’ face. Carefully, deliberately, he began to bring Ulysses off with his hands and his clever, damnable mouth. 

“Reed,” Ulysses said, when he was able to speak. “You can change your mind whenever -- I won’t hold you to it.” 

“It’s the same for you, isn’t it? Sir,” Reed said, smiling. When he kissed him again, Ulysses kissed him back eagerly. It was all going too fast, too soon. He wanted to feel Reed so much closer to himself. He remembered a poultice that Kirby had brewed up for him and the rest of the crew. It was greasy and medicinal, helping greatly with chapped lips and skin.

He took the small tin out of his pocket and thrust it into Reed’s hand, the one not occupied with touching his cock so wonderfully. “Be a dear fellow and fuck me,” he whispered, dying at the sound of his own words. 

Reed grinned and obeyed him. It was an experience quite unlike anything Ulysses had ever been through. He didn’t dislike it, however. 

Instead, he leaned against the brick wall and sighed and let Reed, with his greater experience, show him how it was done. When Reed breached him, Ulysses couldn’t help but groan into Reed’s hand, but his hips jerked up, to be closer to him. 

Afterwards, Ulysses pressed his face against Reed’s shoulder and moaned, “My God, what are we going to do?”

Reed put a hand on Ulysses’ head, stroking his hair. “Nothing has to change. We’re not the first nor the last to do such a thing.”

Ulysses pulled away and looked at him. “I’m not the kind of person who can trifle with another's affections, Eben. When I love, I love with my whole heart.”

Eben kissed him again and Ulysses felt a wild swell of affection towards him. 

“My God. I would marry you if I could.” Even as he said it, he knew it was odd — perhaps even a crazy thing to say. Any sensible man would now make an excuse and slip away. 

But Eben Reed was not a sensible man. In fact, Ulysses realized at once that he was very prone to impulsive actions. This feeling was confirmed when Reed grasped Ulysses’ hand and said, intensely, “Why don’t we then?”

“Get married? What church would sanctify that?” Ulysses laughed, pulling himself together. He dusted off his shoulders and straightened his trousers. When he looked up again, Reed was still staring at him. 

“It could be something between ourselves and the Almighty. Or between ourselves alone. If you accept, I will arrange it.”

What a ridiculous suggestion it was! Ulysses laughed as he accepted it. He didn’t think they would have to consider it further. On that count, however, he was very wrong. 

*

The _Eucleia_ was due to leave port the next day. Dr. Hounslow was still poorly and there was talk among the bridge officers on whether he should be left behind, and if so, who would replace him. The decision seemed obvious to Ulysses, but his opinion was not asked for. He was brooding over it in his poky room at the inn when he heard a knock at the door. He looked up to see Reed motioning for him to come. 

“I can’t get drunk today,” he warned Reed. “Tomorrow will be a misery regardless, but a hangover has never helped matters.” 

“I have no intention of drinking,” Reed assured him. “Come on.” 

“Where are we going?” Ulysses asked as he got ready. Despite his low spirits, he did not wish to present a slovenly or unattractive figure abroad. Reed was handsome and presentable as ever. He seemed in a jocular mood. 

“They say it is the ugliest church in all of Christendom,” Reed said as they left the inn, his hands stuck in his pockets. “To be sure, forcing convicts to build it again after they’d burned it down would all but guarantee such ugliness.” 

“But why are we going to such an ugly church?” Ulysses asked, bewildered. Reed looked at him in surprise. 

“Why, to get married, of course.” 

“Married!” Ulysses said, louder than he ought to have. Several people on the street turned to look at him and he subsided. The two of them were walking side by side, and it was no matter to take Reed’s arm and whisper to him, urgently, “Surely, you take this joke too far?” 

“It’s no joke for me, sir,” Reed said, his eyes large and guileless. 

An intense moment passed between them, with no word spoken. Ulysses thought they were more likely to fight in the streets now rather than be soon ensconced in wedded bliss. It occurred to Ulysses that he did not quite know Reed as well as all that. Reed was capable of quite impulsive actions. Indeed, he was astonished at Reed’s boldness and zest. 

“You cannot call me sir if… we are to be married,” Ulysses said reluctantly. There was something very sweet about the smile Reed gave him, and that was what prevented him from protesting further. 

*

It was true that St. Philips was a very ugly church, and moreover, almost deserted in the mid-afternoon. A clergyman spotted them almost as soon as they had stepped into the entryway. He seemed surprised to see them, as it was neither a Sunday nor a holiday.

“If more of your fellows chose to come to church, how blessed this city would be!” said the clergyman, his hand on his chest. He seemed unexpectedly moved by such a thought. Ulysses struggled to keep his face straight. 

“Uh, thank you, Father,” Ulysses said solemnly. “Would you mind if we were to sit and pray? We are to leave Sydney soon.” 

“Not at all,” said the clergyman. “If you wish to have any kind of counsel, please call for me.” 

They thanked him and let him go off. The church was quiet then and certainly seemed no place for a wedding. They seated themselves in the second pew from the altar, slightly behind a pillar. Reed silently presented Ulysses with some fragile white flowers, and then a ring. It was a plain golden ring, unremarkable in any way. Except that its twin now rested in the palm of Reed’s hand. How Reed could have gotten them on such short notice was a complete mystery to Ulysses. 

Ulysses took the ring and Reed took the other. There was a moment of great solemnity and concentration. Though he knew that this marriage was hasty and ill-considered — and certainly non-binding in any way but personally -- he felt that the two of them had in fact invoked something real here.

They recited the vows from the Book of Common Prayer, though there were some rhetorical departures needed. 

“Which one of us will swear to be obedient?” Ulysses asked in an undertone. 

“Both of us or neither,” Eben whispered back. They settled on swearing loyalty, faith and love. And finally, the promise that what God had joined together, no man would put asunder.

Ulysses accepted it. He gave his ring to Reed, sliding it on to Reed’s finger and then accepting his ring in return. After a swift and subtle turn of his head, Reed took Ulysses’ right hand, and unfastened the cuff to reveal his wrist. He dipped down his head briefly and kissed it, his face intent and earnest. His lips lingered there for a moment and the sensation was almost more than Ulysses could bear. 

They left the flowers on the altar and went back to the inn. It was their last day in Sydney, and there was a carnival atmosphere among the sailors who had only one more night of freedom.

But both Ulysses and Reed were not sensible to it. They were much too wrapped in the newness of their love to care overmuch at all. The room at the inn was small and the walls were thin and forbidding. But it was as one of Ulysses’ favorite poets would say — one little bed could be everywhere. 

*

The next several months were marked by various incidents. Ulysses and Eben signed on to another trip around the globe together. They spent as much time together as they could, though making time was difficult, if not impossible. Their growing closeness was noticed, as it would be when two men of different positions on the ship were friends. 

Ulysses worried more about this than Eben did. His husband was of the opinion that if the worst happened, they would have to worry about it then, not now. Ulysses, on the other hand, preferred to worry beforehand. 

But he did not have much time to worry -- for his role on the ship changed. Dr. Hounslow did die, after his twentieth year of service — his pension would give relief to his widow. First Lieutenant Dewitt told Ulysses that the man had been married and had three daughters living in Lyme Regis. When Ulysses expressed surprise at this, the lieutenant, who was inclined towards philosophy, opined that it was difficult to truly know one’s ship-mates.

“We are not all such wonderful friends as you and Reed,” said Dewitt with a sigh. He was a tall, pale man, very much given towards languor. But his eyes were sharp. Ulysses ignored him. He knew that neither he nor Reed could afford to express their affections toward each other, not with the dire risks involved.

If they should be caught, simple flogging would not do. They would lose face and their livelihood.

“Perhaps if you tried harder to be liked, lieutenant, you would not find friendship so remarkable,” he said at last.

“What a late reply!” Dewitt cried out, laughing. 

In any event, Ulysses was obliged to take up the offices of the ship’s surgeon, with the understanding that he would need to present himself for board approval when he was next in London. 

Kirby was promoted to surgeon’s mate and they recruited another youngster named Ahmed to be the new loblolly boy. It was a gratifying thing to see Kirby being naturally protective of the new addition to their group, for the tasks before them were seemingly endless. Not only did the ship suffer the common ailments and misfortunes of life on the sea -- the fevers, the broken bones, the sudden accidents, the outbreaks of scurvy -- but also stranger incidents that Ulysses had to note especially in his journals. 

A man was larking about with his fellows on a boat -- making large and obscene gestures, to the amusement of his friends -- when suddenly a tiger shark leapt from the water and caught hold of his hand. To the horror of the watching men, he was pulled under and had not been seen since, though Eben said that the hand was later found in the stomach of another fish altogether, a day later. Both he and Ulysses marveled at this pathetic reminder of mortality. 

An emigrant girl came to Ulysses with a complaint about her stomach. Ulysses examined her but could find nothing the matter with her. She subsequently vomited up a tapeworm that reached from the stern of the ship to the bow. After the tapeworm was expelled, the girl improved markedly. 

There was talk of preserving the specimen for study, but the rum-filled barrel that contained it mysteriously disappeared from the captain’s quarters soon afterwards. It was presumably thrown overboard -- at least, that was Ulysses’ hope, but Eben cast doubt on it. 

He said that immediately after the disappearance of the rum, he had seen a group of suspiciously drunk sailors who would not say where they had gotten the source of their joy. 

“But did you drink any?” Ulysses asked him. 

“My intestines couldn’t handle it,” Eben assured him. “I know my limits.” 

Eben was, thankfully, not usually in need of medical care -- his constitution was singularly robust. Alas, his flaw was his propensity for heroics -- there was once a young man who fell overboard into the cold Atlantic, and all thought him lost, except Eben, who took charge of the task of retrieving him. Ulysses was filled with misgivings, as such missions were usually doomed to failure. But Eben’s luck held and they found the man and he was still alive, though barely. 

Ulysses used a trick he had heard from an old sea dog who had sailed in the H.M.S. _Princess Royal_ at the beginning of the century, of blowing tobacco smoke into the lungs of the drowned man to stimulate his breathing. To Ulysses’ surprise, the trick worked -- the man coughed and regained consciousness. Once the patient was resting comfortably, Ulysses rushed out of the brig, where Eben was waiting for him. 

He put his head briefly on Eben’s shoulder for a moment. A moment was all he needed -- all he could afford -- but it was a powerful comfort for him. Eben put his arm around him. 

“Enough of that,” Ulysses said, even as his entire frame longed to stay in position. With great reluctance, he pushed himself away, though not before Eben had pressed a swift kiss on his forehead. 

“You should not have broached Snell’s rescue,” Ulysses said when he was recovered enough. “You’re the second master. Let others risk their lives for once.”

“I was closest to where he went overboard,” Eben said. “I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.” 

Ulysses felt a swell of affection for his husband. He wanted to say such a generous spirit would be the death of him, but he would not utter such a dire thought into the universe. 

It heard him anyway. 

* 

It had been ten years since Ulysses had spent any time at all in London, and he found it exceedingly disagreeable. Breathing freely in the great metropolis was an impossibility and his boarding house was always loud and overrun with children. Strange as it was, Ulysses felt that he was more likely to find solitude on board a ship than in his little squalid room in Mrs. Griflet’s house. 

Nonetheless, he was doing well. He had passed his Navy Board examinations -- no one could deny that he was truly a surgeon now. He had brought his two logbooks to the Barber-Surgeons Company and then to Greenwich Hospital. The first found the tapeworm rum story amusing, while the other thought the tobacco cure to be more enlightening.

He was also able to collect his pay — seventeen pounds per annum. Having treated only thirty cases of venereal diseases on the _Eucleia_ , Ulysses missed the five pounds he would’ve received if he had treated a hundred. 

Life was truly going exceedingly well, but it would have been better if he was with Eben. As least, he thought, they would have new stories to share with each other. 

“A letter for you, Doctor,” said Mrs. Griflet as Ulysses exited the house in search of dinner. He thanked her and frowned at the handwriting on it. It was in Lieutenant Dewitt’s hand, but surely the _Eucleia_ was not due in port for the next month or so? 

He opened the letter and read it. His world cracked open and all the joy rushed out. 

*

The _Eucleia_ had been lost in a storm in the Bay of Biscay. It had been an older ship of the line, built quickly at the beginning of the century. Through careful maintenance, it had sailed longer than most of its sisters, but fate could not be avoided — not in such a storm, and not in such a place, where the fury of the Atlantic clashed with the shallow waters of the bay. 

Ulysses heard the story from Dewitt, who presented himself at Ulysses’ boarding house three weeks after the disaster to tell him the tale. He found Ulysses in a distressing condition and made his disapproval immediately clear. 

“This won’t do,” he said briefly, taking in the scene. “You will have to come to my house in Lyme Regis to recover. I won’t take no as an answer.”

“Get out, Dewitt,” Ulysses replied. His room smelled sour and sick, as if he were still on board a ship during a long journey. He did not want to be observed in his obvious heartbreak. He had been with Eben only six years, with only a handful of days when they could truly be alone and unobserved. 

Had they not deserved more? Had they not loved enough? 

“Come Barton, you are wasting away,” Dewitt said, and Ulysses could not take what he supposed was the judgment in his tone. He sat up suddenly and his head swam. He nearly vomited on his bed — only saved by Dewitt’s quick substitution of a bowl.

Once Ulysses had been cleaned up and settled, Dewitt again pressed him on his future plans.

“My plans! What of them, by God?” Ulysses said bitterly. He thought of the years of loneliness before him -- if he was lucky. “ I suppose I will sign on to another ship and put in my twenty years of service somehow. And you?” 

“I’ve made captain,” Dewitt said with a small smile. “It was surprising, but I suppose they are down one.” 

“Well, at least someone benefited. I mean -- congratulations. You’re not a terrible choice.”

“You’re very blunt when you’re sad, but I accept your half-hearted congratulations,” Dewitt declared. He seated himself on the edge of Ulysses’ bed, an act of intimacy that once, Ulysses would have been abashed at. “But listen. I wish to have you as my surgeon. But my ship won’t be ready until next year.”

Then, his voice gentler than its usual wont, Dewitt said, “I assure you, my wife and I will do everything to look after you in your grief. She will not judge you, nor will I.”

Ulysses lifted his head. His eyes met Dewitt’s. In them, he saw more sympathy than he could have guessed. It was unbearable to continue to look at him. It had been Eben who was unafraid of being hurt. 

“I have nothing to grieve over,” Ulysses said. Dewitt’s expression did not change. He knew that Ulysses was lying. “Save the ship and our mates on board. Your grief would be the same as mine.”

“We know that isn’t true,” Dewitt answered. He was right. Ulysses agreed to go with him to Lyme Regis. 

*

Rebecca Dewitt was in all things unlike her husband. While he was prone to fits of languid indifference, she was a woman of industrious activity and a kindly temperament. Once she had hold of Ulysses, she was determined to transform him into a respectable-looking gentleman. Astonished, and moreover unused to the ways of determined women — his mother was merely a distant but fond memory — Ulysses let her do it.

The Dewitts, upon observation, were a couple not used to spending much time together. Rebecca was quite set in her way of life, for she had been a lively and popular heiress before her marriage and still held court afterwards. Her husband seemed at times like a visitor who imposed himself on the tranquility of her house. And yet, they seemed to be genuinely delighted with each other. 

Ulysses wondered what would have happened if he and Eben had been able to set up a household. It would be, necessarily, a much more modest establishment than the Dewitts had. And Eben had never indicated that he would wish to settle down somewhere, after they had retired. Ulysses’ heart stung at the possibilities that could now never happen. 

Brightly, Rebecca asked Ulysses to see the contents of his sea chest, and he obliged her. Within were all the instruments of his trade: for amputations, trephining, the probing of wounds, dentistry and of course, barbering. Her wide blue eyes lingered long on the amputation knives and saws most of all, and she drolly asked if Ulysses had used every one of them. 

“Indeed I have,” Ulysses assured her, closing the top of the chest. “The Navy obliges me to purchase my own, so every knife counts.”

“I must increase my daily prayers that James is never injured on board a ship,” Mrs. Dewitt murmured, almost to herself. But Ulysses heard her — and carefully agreed. 

And while the company of the Dewitts was entertaining and their friendship extremely gratifying, Ulysses was grateful to be housed in a fair cottage on the Dewitt estate, within a stone’s throw from the sea. Captain Dewitt had insisted on giving him a measure of solitude, proving that he understood Ulysses far better than he let on. 

Ulysses took long walks through the town and down to the Cobb. He especially liked going there when the tide was high and the surf slammed violently against the stones of the pier. He watched the water and thought dark thoughts. There were some moments when he thought that his life, such as it was, could come to an end quite easily.

It was on such a morning when Ulysses’ dark thoughts were interrupted by an outcry behind him. When he turned to look, he saw that one of the young ladies had slipped on the surf-slicked steps and taken a tumble down. She was insensible and could not be roused; when Ulysses reluctantly broke into the gathering crowd around her and disclosed himself to be a surgeon, he was seized upon and brought to the inn where the young lady’s party was staying.

He had to send a runner to the Dewitts for his chest, for his pocket case with its collection of scalpels would not be enough. For some tense hours afterwards Ulysses was not quite sure the young lady would survive, but she was tenacious in life. Ulysses had to take especial care so she would not have to carry a large scar across her forehead for her entire life. 

After some time, she awoke and asked where she had been brought to. In the crush of relieved friends and family, Ulysses was able to slip away. He would have gone directly to the Dewitts, but his hands needed washing. 

He left the room and ran immediately into one of the young lady’s companions. 

“Pardon me!” Ulysses said, feeling as if he needed an excuse for his own disheveled appearance. “I am more used to patching up sailors. It is harder work to preserve beauty.” 

The young woman’s eyes followed Ulysses’ downward. Mrs. Dewitt’s fine gift of a waistcoat was now spotted thoroughly with blood. “Oh. I am sorry — I usually work with an apron.”

The young woman took a deep breath. “No, I don’t mind it. Surely Abigail’s beauty will not suffer. Moreover, we are only concerned about her life.” 

“Of course,” Ulysses said awkwardly. “Forgive me, I should not have made light.”

“No, I am used to certain grim humor among sailing men. My father was a surgeon in the Navy. I’m Sarah Hounslow,” said the young woman, extending her hand. Ulysses took it, astonished.

“Why, I knew your father. I worked under him on the _Eucleia_.” 

Sarah nodded. “Yes, I heard what happened. It’s a terrible thing.” 

Ulysses nodded. Doctor Hounslow’s name reminded him of the early days on board the ship, learning how to sail and getting to know Eben. He had been so maddening and wonderful at once! Ulysses smiled and caught himself -- it was strange to smile at the mention of a ship wreck. 

But Sarah did not seem to mark it. Instead, she was thinking. “You are — Ulysses Barton? My father did mention you.”

He hoped ardently it had only been good things. He cleared his throat and said, “Is the young woman — Abigail — your sister?”

“No,” Sarah said, “Abigail Wren is my dearest friend.” 

Ulysses recognized the particular emphasis of her words well enough. Hadn’t he said the same for Eben, and meant so much more? His grief reared up again. He looked away for a moment and remarked that Miss Wren was lucky to have such a friend. 

*

The wind blew through the cottage and Ulysses woke up with a start. He ached for Eben’s presence, even though it was foolish. They had slept in a bed together less than a handful of times -- in ports, in seedy inns that often seemed to invite murder. Despite the danger, they had enjoyed themselves -- that time in Amsterdam, when the ancient canopy bed had collapsed and almost smothered them. That time when they spent the night in the crow’s nest, watching the stars… 

Ulysses sighed and pressed his hand against his chest, where he kept his ring on a chain. He’d stopped wearing it around his finger years ago, when he thought the blood was beginning to tarnish it. 

The moon slipped from the bank of clouds and moonlight flooded into the room. For a moment, Ulysses fancied that he could make out the shape of a man standing at the door of the cottage.

His heart pounded in his chest, but the light shifted again to reveal nothing but a white door. 

He lay with his losses for a long time after that.

*

“I want to tell you about my brother,” Dewitt told Ulysses one day as they took a ramble through town. Ulysses cast his eyes upward in silent agony. Really, this was a surprise — Dewitt was not an expressive man, nor likely to reveal secrets of his past. That he would choose to do so now meant what would follow was highly significant.

“I was the second son, never meant to inherit much in the way of our father’s estate. I followed my uncle into the Navy and found that it suited me. But in the time I had made second lieutenant, I received word that my brother was dead. I was required to come back, of course, and settle matters here.”

Dewitt paused and sighed. “It is odd, I must say, how a death — especially of one so relatively young — changes a house entirely. One is afraid to speak or laugh, so as not to disturb the grief that smothers everything. And yet, I believe my brother would be dismayed to see us so. He was a lively boy.”

“Dewitt, while I appreciate you sharing all of this …” 

“You don’t see how this is relevant to your condition?” Dewitt gave him a sharp look. Then he smiled suddenly. “You are right. I’ve never felt the grief you have. If Rebecca were to die, then I would never recover.”

“You say that, but most people do. It’s not because their hearts are cold or they did not love as much as any other,” Ulysses said slowly. “But it is necessary to continue life. And the living must have a life.”

Dewitt clapped him on the shoulder and called him a capital fellow, which annoyed Ulysses further. From Dewitt’s expression, it was clear he knew it. They passed over the usual spots in the town and turned back home. 

At home, they found Rebecca having Sarah and Abigail over for tea. They had all met one night at one of Lady Dalrymple’s soirées and discovered their connection to each other — thanks to Ulysses.

“Mr. Barton,” said Rebecca, when he entered the room and bowed. “We were just speaking of you.”

“Oh dear,” Ulysses said. “I hope it was only good things.”

“Your problem, Barton, is your worried air that you are being criticized. It makes people suspicious, you know,” said Dewitt, coming in behind. He greeted the ladies, kissed his wife on the cheek, and stretched out on the wingback chair next to the fireplace.

“He is free to take as many compliments as he likes,” Rebecca said with a smile. “Miss Hounslow, Miss Wren and I have agreed that we should have a little party in his honor. Wouldn’t that be jolly?”

“In his honor!” Dewitt exclaimed. “May I remind you that I’m the one who was shipwrecked only a year ago.”

“Captain Dewitt expresses himself quite heartlessly, but he’s right,” Ulysses said, ducking his head. “I was in London at the time and did absolutely nothing to help my fellows. If anyone deserves a party in their honor, it is him.”

“But you saved Abigail’s life,” said Sarah strongly. She took Abigail’s hand and smiled at her. “Of course we are grateful for it.”

“Yes, I certainly am,” said Abigail, coloring prettily. “But judging from Mrs. Dewitt’s expression, I think we are straying from the matter at hand.”

“Well observed,” said Rebecca. “Miss Wren has a canny eye. I suppose it is very useful in scouting out fossils?”

“Very much so,” said Abigail. “I have searched for such things since I was a little girl.” It had been a fossil-hunting expedition that had brought their party to Lyme Regis, where Abigail had her fall. As a result, the party had set up a semi-permanent digs in a rented house, and Abigail could go about and make discoveries as she wished. 

“What do you think of the implications of such things, Miss Wren?” Ulysses asked earnestly. “Their apparent ages seem a large departure from the Biblical point of view.”

“I think such things point to a deeper and stranger history than one reads in the Bible,” said Abigail. She looked around anxiously and said, “I hope my remarks have not offended. I do believe in the basic tenets of Christianity.”

“Do unto others, etcetera,” said Dewitt. “I understand you. Perhaps our party should include a fossil-hunt as well.”

His suggestion was met with universal approval, and so the date and time for such festivities was set for a month hence.

*

The morning of the party dawned bright and beautiful. Miss Anning, the doyenne of fossil-expeditions in Lyme Regis, was present and taking questions as the group trooped towards the seashore. She described finding a complete pterosaur, a sort of flying reptile that had lived so long ago that it boggled the mind.

It was a merry party going down, and Ulysses walked in between Sarah and Abigail, as they were reminiscing about their previous experiences fossil-hunting. He noticed the ragged figure of a thin and dust-covered man, standing at the gate of the Dewitts’ home as they passed. He looked more intently at the figure and wondered at the frisson of recognition that ran through him. Did he know that man?

Ulysses took leave of the ladies and went to Dewitt, who was at the head of the procession. “James, do you recognize that man?” he asked, catching hold of Dewitt’s arm. 

“Bother that, we’ve a party to get to,” said Dewitt. “Stay back and question him if you like.”

“You’re very lax about the security of your home,” said Ulysses disapprovingly. But Dewitt merely smiled and said he had all that he valued here — blowing a kiss to Rebecca as he did so. 

Annoyed at Dewitt’s whimsy, Ulysses quit the party and walked back towards the house. He wondered at his own urgency as he made his way back. Perhaps it was someone he knew from a past voyage, someone who had fallen on hard times? 

He was afraid the man would no longer be there when he returned, but he was, leaning against the gate in an attitude of great weariness. He raised his face at the sound of Ulysses’ approach. 

“I thought,” he said, “that you had forgotten all about me.” His voice was the only thing about him that hadn’t utterly changed. It was still a fine baritone that the chaplain on the _Eucleia_ had tried so many times to recruit for the choir, though Eben had never obliged him. Hearing it made Ulysses weak in the knees. 

Ulysses was reminded suddenly of the old ballad concerning an unfaithful lover and her dead sweetheart, who had come back to her after she had married another.

He had done none of those things, and yet he thought he recognized that feeling of stricken recognition and guilt. He stepped forward and reached out to him. “Eben,” he said brokenly. “I thought you had died …” 

“I’m no ghost,” was Eben’s curt reply. He seemed to stagger a little, as if the weight of supporting himself was too much. Ulysses moved quickly to catch hold of him. From a single touch, he saw that Eben was burning with a fever. With this knowledge, Ulysses was energized. He knew what to do now -- Eben was his patient first of all, and his husband second. It was his duty to save him. 

He brought Eben to his cottage, not wishing to bring any infection into the Dewitts’ house. Then he prepared for the struggle of saving his husband, if he could, and then learning how it was that he had survived the shipwreck and come back to Ulysses. 

What a bitter irony it would be, Ulysses thought as he wiped the sweat from Eben’s brow, if he should regain the love of his life only to lose him again. When Eben tried to speak to him, Ulysses urged him to save his strength for later. 

“What if there is no later?” Eben asked, looking at him balefully from the bed. He had wrapped the bedsheets around his tanned and weathered face, and looked like nothing but an ancient oracle. Ulysses considered what he should say, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Dewitt, calling on him. Through the door, he asked if everything was all right. 

“Yes,” Ulysses said, through the door. “I have Eb -- Reed here -- no, don’t ask me how he got here. He has a fever and so I can’t see you.” 

“Eben Reed? And yet I saw him die,” said Dewitt. “Well! I’ll ask Mrs. Green to bring supper over here; she can leave it at the door. Do you need any medicine?” 

“Yes,” Ulysses said and gave him a list of medicines to bring. He hoped against hope he would not need to bleed Eben, though that would be the first choice for most physicians. But in his years of working, Ulysses had never seen a patient improve markedly after being bled. Rather, it seemed more likely to lead to their decline. 

But better and more experienced physicians than he swore by it, and if it meant saving Eben’s life, he would do it. For now, however, all he could do was keep Eben in comfort and have him sweat out his fever as well as he could. He hoped some of Eben’s old vigor would return to him. 

*

Eben was sunk in fever for two days, slipping in and out of consciousness seemingly at random. He would speak in his sleep, calling both Ulysses’ name and names Ulysses did not recognize. His fever grew worse at the end of the first night. 

Finally, out of desperation, Ulysses bled him. His hands, usually so steady, almost slipped when he was about to make the cut. To that end, he could only manage a meagre stream of blood before he closed the wound. 

It didn’t help. Eben grew worse, his face growing pale and drawn under his tan. 

Ulysses gave him a saline draught and that seemed to help him. By the end of the second night, he seemed to be recovering. But still the night was long, the longest in Ulysses’ life. They spent it together in Ulysses’ bedroom, a single candle burning in between them, and the sound of the sea not far away. 

Ulysses, who had been snoozing in the chair he’d dragged in from the parlor, woke to the feeling of intense scrutiny. Eben had opened his eyes and was studying him. “Still alive, hey?” Ulysses said in between yawns. He sat up and watched Eben avidly, pleased at the new color in his face. 

“No thanks to you,” said Eben lazily, holding out his hand. Ulysses took it and kissed his wrist and his hand -- which was thinner and more scarred than before. He also noticed that Eben had lost his ring somewhere. Regretfully, Eben said,“It slipped off when I was in the sea. Sank somewhere in the Bay of Biscay.” 

“Better it than you,” Ulysses said. “We can replace it.” 

“You have yours?” Eben asked. 

Ulysses lifted the chain around his neck, showing the ring. “I hadn’t had a chance to take it off.” 

Eben smiled. 

“Of course,” he said softly and fell back asleep. 

There was nothing more to do than to get ready for the new day, but Ulysses found himself reluctant to leave Eben’s side. It was when the clock struck twelve that he finally rose from his seat. He was still wearing his fine party clothes and was unshaved and disgraceful. As he cleaned up and changed, Ulysses wondered vaguely what everyone thought had become of him. He supposed Dewitt would tell Rebecca and Rebecca would tell everyone else. He felt too tired to care at the moment. 

He ate breakfast from the basket Mrs. Green had brought him, and brewed himself a cup of tea. He was still drinking it when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to let Dewitt in. 

“So, does he live, this Eben Reed that defied the fates so?” Dewitt asked. Ulysses winced; Dewitt’s voice was far too loud for the sunny tranquility of the cottage. 

“Quiet down, he’s sleeping,” Ulysses said. “I have great hopes for his recovery.” 

“A testament to your skills, no doubt,” Dewitt said, his bold black eyes resting on Ulysses for a moment. He looked thoughtful. “You know, he could be called up to give his testimony concerning the last moments of the _Eucleia_ and the fate of the Captain.” 

“Don’t speak of that now,” Ulysses said, bristling. “One doesn’t come back from the dead to immediately deal with legalities.” 

“Has he told you what happened?” 

“No, I wouldn’t let him speak.” 

There was a sound of a cup falling and breaking in the other room. Dewitt smiled happily. “It seems that he has woken up. Shall we interview him together?” 

Ulysses wanted nothing more than to refuse, to tell Dewitt to go back home and come back later when Ulysses had spent more time with Eben. But it was a story that he wished to learn as well, and he couldn’t deny Dewitt to his face. 

*

What followed was a highly technical breakdown of the shipwreck and what could have prevented it and what could have caused it. Both Dewitt and Eben had their own ideas about that and argued fiercely over it. Ulysses, whose own expertise had little to do with the argument at hand, went out of the room and brought back more tea and breakfast for Eben.

When Eben described going into the water, however, neither Ulysses nor Dewitt could bother finishing their cups. 

“The water was so cold,” Eben said, shivering as if in remembrance. “I couldn’t see the cutter at all; I assumed it had gotten away from the eye of the storm. I spoke to Captain Montgomery for the last time -- he refused to leave the ship. He gave me a letter to give to his son, but I lost it. I think the bulk of it the boy should already know. When the ship sank at last, there was enough flotsam for me to cling to, but I was lucky — one of the broken lifeboats floated past me — it had a giant hole in its hull. I tried to keep it sealed, as well as find any other men who were in the water, but I saw none that were living.”

“You could have done nothing for them by then,” Ulysses said softly. He touched Eben’s forehead, ostensibly to check his temperature. It was slightly warm and Eben closed his eyes for a moment, before Ulysses took his hand away. 

“It was as you say. I floated on for a long time and eventually, my boat drifted toward western Spain. Now, I’ve some French, but no Spanish. The fisherman who pulled me out of the water didn’t know what to do with me, so I was obliged to work for him until he brought me to port. By then, a month had passed since the wreck. I must’ve hit my head when the ship finally sank, for I was plagued always with headaches afterwards, and periods of forgetfulness. It was in such a fit that I found myself on another ship, a Spanish one this time, heading towards the Americas. It did no good for me to explain that I was a British sailor. Anyone could be shanghaied. Well, I’d had enough of being taken places where I had no wish to go. I jumped ship as soon as I could and was stranded in the Canaries for some time.”

“My! And how did you get off?” asked Dewitt.

“Very carefully,” Eben said. “It took me some time to leave the islands and get to the continent.”

“And you stuck to the land routes to avoid being taken unawares again?”

“Yes,” Eben said. “I arrived in London last week and made inquiries about U — Mr. Barton’s whereabouts. That led me here — Kirby says hello, by the way. He’s a surgeon now. I congratulated him for you.” 

“Thank you, Eben,” said Ulysses. “He certainly deserved the recognition.” 

“And now I must ask, why did you come see Ulysses here?” Dewitt asked. 

“Because I love him,” Eben said simply. 

“Because I love him,” Ulysses said at the same time. 

Dewitt stood up and stretched. “So I’m interrupting a sweet reunion here. I’ll see you soon. Ulysses, Reed.” 

They thanked him and he took his leave. By now, it was noon and the sunshine spilled into the room, filling it with light. Ulysses touched Eben’s face.

“You need a shave,” Ulysses said, patting Eben’s cheek. “Shall I oblige you?” 

“I would like that —” Eben said, but instead of letting Ulysses get his supplies, he kissed him. Ulysses, who had been expecting such a thing since Dewitt had left the cottage, fell into it with frantic ardor. It had been so long since he had touched Eben, in life and not just in bittersweet dreams. He was pulled into bed and pressed himself against Eben eagerly. 

Eben was thinner than before and as Ulysses held him, he felt a certain fragility that had not been there before. He would have been content to leave it at that -- the feeling of warm skin against his own was wonderful to him -- but desire built within him to an almost frantic pitch. Eben felt it too, his cock hard against Ulysses’ thigh. 

Ulysses reached out and hiked up Eben’s nightshirt and took out his cock. It was, as always, of an admirable size and girth. And when pressed up against Ulysses’ own member, it was the sweetest feeling of all. 

They could not wait to do anything more elaborate than to rut against each other, until Eben came across Ulysses’ thighs. Ulysses kissed him deeply.

He stroked Eben’s whiskers and decided. 

“All right,” he said, “we do need to shave you.” 

To take advantage of the strong sunlight, they moved their work outside to the garden when the servants came to air out the cottage and the sheets. A brisk wind blew in from the sea and ruffled their hair. 

They talked idly of this and that as Ulysses cut Eben’s hair, never straying from safe topics. Their long-delayed conversation would have to be delayed further -- it was something both desired and dreaded. Finally, the last whisker was trimmed, the last curl cropped, and the servants departed. They were alone together once again. 

Eben cleared his throat and said, “You are well set up here, I think. I don’t want to disturb you — I saw you walking out with a lady. If you wish to be free to marry her, I would never stand in your way.”

Ulysses was brought up short. Eben was not the sort of man to give way so quickly and without a fight. His journey had changed him then, in ways that were not visible to the eye.

In truth, he wished with all his heart that he could dismiss Eben’s concerns as quickly as he wished. But the truth of the matter was that he had become comfortable in this place and among these people. To deny it would be shameful and a lie. And he had never lied to Eben and he did not wish to start now. 

“The lady I was walking with -- Eben, she is like us and she has a person she loves. I would never consider marrying her.” Ulysses began to pace around the rosebushes. “Do you think I have replaced you in my heart? Perhaps that’s how it seems… I will not deny that I’ve grown used to being here and not -- traveling always.” 

“You do hate to travel,” Eben acknowledged. “Unfortunately for your chosen line of work.” 

“I know that!” Ulysses snapped back. He didn’t want them to quarrel so soon after reuniting, but this strain of argument was a familiar one. 

Eben sighed and threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine then. But what about Dewitt? You cannot be blind to his motivations. It’s clear as day. He was put out at my coming here. He always knew of us, I suppose.” 

“Dewitt? Him? Never in a thousand years would I consider him when I have experienced true love with you. My God! I lost you and found you again, and you talk about Dewitt?” 

Ulysses flushed at his passionate declaration, but all Eben did was look at him seriously. Ulysses stared back at him hopelessly. He couldn’t explain how extraordinary the thought was that he would have such feelings for Dewitt. Dewitt had proven to be a more compassionate friend than Ulysses thought he could be, but the idea he could be a seducer — that Ulysses would be seduced — was laughable. 

And Eben did laugh, suddenly and with the good humor that had always been his hallmark. He looked so much more like himself now, cleaned and trimmed and laughing at Ulysses’ foolishness. He bowed his head in an attitude of serious contrition. 

“Forgive me, Ulysses. Of course you would never take notice of something like that. You’re very unlike your namesake.” 

“Indeed not,” Ulysses replied, resigned to the matter. “I suppose I am a Penelope instead. But I don’t want to be left behind anymore.”

Eben took in his words with visible emotion. “Yes,” he said, “that is my wish as well. I don’t want us to be parted -- for as long as I live.” 

Such clear expressions of feelings proved too much for Ulysses. He nodded briefly and bolted back into the cottage, to make tea for them. And then, once he was able to steady himself, they could talk further about their future. 

*

Ulysses bent down and picked up an ammonite fossil and held it up to the light. It was small and dark in his hand, but he could imagine how, long ago when the Earth was young, it had once swum lazily in some warm tropical sea. Its home was on its back; it had no other concerns at all. Even death had left it in perfect condition. 

If everyone could say the same thing! 

Ulysses had only a few minutes to sketch the ammonite before he heard his name being called. He waved at the party -- consisting of Rebecca, Abigail and Sarah, as well as Dewitt and Eben arguing over something or other. This was their very last entertainment before the three men would depart to Plymouth to take their places on the H.M.S. _Avalon_ , Dewitt’s new ship. 

He already had his logbooks printed and ready, as well as his surgeon’s chest, filled with newly sharpened instruments. Ulysses and Eben had discussed the possibility that they could remain on land, but in the end, their considerations came to naught. Eben’s livelihood was tied up with the sea, and Ulysses did not wish to be separated from him once again. 

Like the ammonite of old, they would take their home with them wherever they went -- together.

**Author's Note:**

> [Scanned naval surgeons' logbooks from the 18th and 19th century](https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/surgeonsatsea/). Some truly wild tales in there. 
> 
> [Would you have survived being sick on the high seas?](https://www.sea.museum/2016/02/11/would-you-have-survived-being-sick-on-the-high-seas) (For me, probably not!! I could not do it.) 
> 
> [The contents of a naval surgeon's chest](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1079363/#!po=1.72414). So many different types of scalpels! 
> 
> [Georgian fossil-hunting](https://www.historyextra.com/period/georgian/where-history-happened-georgian-fossil-hunting/). Shoutout to Mary Anning! 
> 
> [Physician's diagnostics guide circa 1812.](https://www.thornber.net/medicine/html/hooper.html) So many reasons to bleed someone!
> 
> [This is the best version of Return of the Grievous Angel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r-VwSRzXbk) by Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris.


End file.
